I was expecting him to arrive around 12:30 this afternoon. In anticipation of that I made sure that I had my morning chores and errands finished so I'd be ready and waiting for him. This is not a man that I'd want to leave waiting.
I heard him drive up exactly when I expected him. As I was in the kitchen already I took a quick peek out the window and I'll admit that I shivered a bit with excitement. But I also knew he can occasionally be slow with coming to me.
I'd been making coffee when he drove up so I continued with that. There was no chance at all of him wanting a cup but I made it anyway. As the coffee began to brew I ducked into the bathroom to brush my hair and freshen my lipstick. I knew they were probably wasted efforts but I wanted to do something - anything - to occupy the seconds until he would ring my doorbell.
The coffee finished brewing and I set the cups and cream on the table in the living room. Where could he be? I'd been waiting all morning for him. No...it was worse than that. I'd been waiting all the night before as well. I went to sleep with the lovely thought of him standing at my threshold, his hands extended to me. He really was my last thought before I went to sleep and my first thought when I awoke this morning.
And then I heard an engine start outside. I rushed to the window, not wanting to believe it was true. Not wanting to accept that he had forsaken me.
But it was true. And as I saw him drive down the street, my heart sank.
The package delivery man was gone. He didn't deliver my French butter dish today.